Never Saw it Coming
by Shipperwolf
Summary: Mid season 1 fic. Michael's realization of what Sara has become to him in the time he's been in Fox River


ok, lol, for the person who wanted an old fic...here's one of my first. written in the middle of season 1 lol!

I Own...my forehead. But not PB. :P

* * *

Charm had always been my forte. It seemed no matter what the situation, I was always able to make someone laugh.

Especially women.

People used to say it was my voice that they liked so much. I wouldn't know. ..

All I do know is that I often enjoyed seeing a woman's smile, even if I didn't know her. It brightened my day to bring some light into this dismal world.

This charm, however….this talent, has recently proven capable of becoming a curse as well.

When I walked through the doors of Fox River Penitentiary, I knew exactly what I was doing. My normally content personality was now covered with the facade of a common criminal. Charm would do me no good in here. Making people smile, laugh-- things that were so normal to me…everyday joys were no longer a part of my life. I willingly sacrificed it. The life of my brother was well worth it.

My entire persona had to be altered if I wanted to survive prison. Despite this curse of natural charm, I also had a wonderful ability to be reserved when I wanted…or, in this case, needed.

Silent and out of the way--just another lost soul within the walls of Fox River. All part of the plan. For three years it had worked out in my head.

It had all seemed so simple.

Get in.

Get Lincoln.

Get out.

Sure, it was more complex than that, but those three objectives were all I needed to focus on.

Charm was an obsolete trait now…

Until an important part of my plan went awry.

From the moment she began to speak I knew I was going to slip.

It was fine, though…nothing I couldn't handle. No threat to the plan…or at least I'd thought as much.

"Guess we'll be seeing a lot more of each other, huh?"

I shouldn't have said it. The smile she flashed brought me back to my old self momentarily. That person needed to stay buried…for now.

Being friendly with her was part of the plan. But enjoying it was not.

I never saw it coming…

"I'll make you a bet. When I get out here, alive, I'll take you to dinner.."

Dammit. It wasn't that I had said it. It wasn't even that some part of me meant it…

What caused me to kick myself was the twinge of hurt I felt at her cold response…

"Michael, this charm act of yours could be exactly what's getting you into trouble out in the yard…"

It wasn't an act, Sara. It just how I am.

With her, though, I found myself finding it hard NOT to charm her.

Why was it so difficult?

My self control was strong. I knew when to speak and when not to.

I knew HOW not to.

Sara Tancredi, however was fast becoming a challenge.

As our daily appointments passed it was becoming clearer that she was beginning to trust me, in some way.

The riot was probably to blame.

Seeing her on that monitor, crouched alone in the infirmary with inmates desperate to get at her made my senses flare. Anger and a feeling of protection surged and before I knew it I was in the air ducts, trying to calm her down and, once again, finding myself being flirtatious.

"Ever been to Baja--Mexico? There's this great place down there…20 bucks a night, hammock on the back deck…"

For a brief moment an image of us forced itself into my mind, drinking beer and chatting about anything and everything.

I shook it away quickly and scolded myself.

Her restricted involvement in the plan was falling apart at the seams, but I refused to admit it.

After the riot she became increasingly interested in me, and in my background. She slowly began to realize that I was hiding something from her.

I tried to shut her out, telling myself that it was time to bring this to an end. To concentrate solely on what I came to do. To worry ONLY about Lincoln. About the escape.

I immediately found it difficult. This woman had driven herself into my mind. Worst of all, I was finding certain things about her appealing…her smile, her laugh, and her touch…even through gloves.

Then I messed up yet again. I crossed a line across simple flirtation, and expressed a sense of caring and attraction towards her.

I should have never asked about the flowers she received for her birthday. But I was far too curious, and although I didn't express it, I felt the slightest twinge of jealousy before finding out that they were from her father.

The relief I felt was troubling.

Why should I care who they're from? I have no claim over her, she's free to get flowers from whomever she wants.

Even still…the jealousy HAD been there.

And it scared and interested me at the same time.

I knew she didn't care for the flowers the Governor had sent her.

To her it was monotonous and lacked the closeness she had been deprived of by him.

The paper flower was simple, but I somehow knew she would find it more intimate than the beautiful set that had sat on her desk and then abruptly been thrown away.

A warm feeling threatened my senses when I saw it sitting on the shelf.

"You kept it…"

The immense flirtation that followed about her apartment and her degree of innocence was enough for me to kick myself over later.

But the feeling of her eyes bearing into mine as she listened to my heartbeat keeps me from regretting giving her the flower.

Even though I probably should.

I knew then there was a real attraction between us. In that moment, the tension I felt while we stared at each other confirmed my fear…

I was too close.

I was physically--and, very possibly emotionally--attracted to Dr. Tancredi.

Despite the dread that came with this realization, I also found myself enjoying it.

Which was, yet AGAIN, a big mistake.

This plan was becoming a disaster.

But I couldn't bring myself to try and shut her out again.

I soon found that I didn't need to…

She was going to be the one closing the doors on our would-be relationship.

"So, you're married?"

"Not in the traditional sense of the word-"

"Michael, we're both adults, put your cards on the table."

I, of course, couldn't put ANYTHING on the table.

I couldn't tell her I had married this woman so she could get into the conjugal room to give me a credit card.

So I kept silent as she laid down the new law…

"Here's the deal. From now on, your shots, any medical concerns are all fine, as long as it's doctor-patient. But personal questions and favors of any kind are no longer a part of our relationship."

In other words, she wasn't going to let a married man get too far into her heart. She was going cold on me…or as cold as she could. Sara was a naturally caring person.

But I had hurt her, and it would take a long time to gain forgiveness.

I tried to make her understand, but my efforts at breaking through were futile…

"I only married her so she could get her green card."

"I saw you coming out of the conjugal room.." she refused to look at me as she spoke.

She had earlier claimed that she wasn't a jealous person.

She was, but she was also a strong one.

I felt my hope slipping.

"It's just business."

"You don't have to explain it to me Michael."

This time I wouldn't lie to her..

"I know. But I want to."

She left without responding.

The only thing I could do was get back to the plan, and try to drive my thoughts away from her.

The day of Lincoln's execution was drawing near, and along with it, the day of our escape. Sara had remained distant from me, but she couldn't seem to completely cut the thread that held our strained, unofficial, and realistically delusional relationship intact.

She was trying, I knew.

But every time she took a step back, I stepped forward.

I couldn't help but try to keep some hope there, even if it was a foolish hope.

For the first time in what seemed like forever, she expressed herself personally towards me…

"I'm sorry about your brother."

The warm feeling returned.

I couldn't stop myself from reaching out to take her hand.

It was light, almost non-existent, but it was still a clear show of gratitude and affection.

"Thank you…"

As I walk back to my cell, the feeling in my hand remains.

My "charm" had brought me trouble in the one time and place I didn't want it.

But this time, it had grown into something more than a simple compliment or flirtatious remark to make someone smile.

Attraction, affection….love?

I glanced back towards the infirmary.

After all the planning, the strategizing, the preparation.

After years of thinking that I knew exactly what to expect when I walked into this prison…

I had fallen in love with Sara Tancredi.

I never saw it coming….


End file.
